


The Two-Timer

by mific



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drama, Fanfiction, M/M, Romance, Slash, Smut, Time Travel, autoeroticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco takes autoeroticism to new heights by having an affair with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Two-Timer

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: westwardlee.  
> This was inspired by Part 18 of Calanthe's excellently titled Harry/Draco romance "Big Dick Come Quick" and is set in a somewhat similar universe, but takes her idea off in another, very Draco-ish direction. Imagine that Harry and Draco, having gotten together aged 26, are now 31 and have been a couple for five years.  
> If you haven't read Calanthe's story - http://www.thehexfiles.net/viewstory.php?sid=3598 - you're missing something special.

 

Draco paced up and down his generously-proportioned office at the Ministry of Magic. His lover should be appearing any moment now, and he was having second thoughts. Hell, he was well past second and on to third or even fourth thoughts. He rubbed sweaty hands down the seam of his crisply pressed trousers and bit his lip, frowning. There were so many unknowns, so many things that could go wrong. He was insane to be doing this, and yet…

And yet. He had to see it through, he’d been obsessed with this bloody plan for two months now and he knew that until he put it into effect he’d never be free. Draco stopped under the portrait of Severus Snape that hung on the end wall beside the window and clenched his fists, looking up at his old Potions master.

Severus stared haughtily back down his prominent nose, and raised one eyebrow. “Looking tense, Draco. Up to no good, I presume? I trust you’re not going to disgrace the name of Salazar Slytherin?”

Draco frowned. “Not at all, Professor, I’m still very much the Slytherin. Too much, perhaps.”

He snatched a linen table cloth from the ornamental dresser under the portrait and draped it over Severus’s disapproving glare. The last thing he needed was sodding Snape as a witness. Draco frowned; he didn’t want Snape hearing anything either. He pulled off the covering and lifted the portrait down, stashing it in the office’s built-in wardrobe between his day-robe and a spare set of dress robes. Draco ignored Snape’s furious questions and demands, pushing the heavy wooden door shut and cutting off his muffled voice. At least there were no Boggarts in there at present, since his secretary had called the eradicators in last week.

Merlin, why the fuck couldn’t he just be happy with Harry and leave well enough alone? They’d been together now for five years so he couldn’t even blame the seven-year itch. And he _was_ happy with Harry, he loved Harry and Harry loved him. He wasn’t bored, he wasn’t tempted by bright young things with tight arses when they flirted with him at Ministry junkets or in the club he and Harry sometimes frequented. None of them made his cock so much as twitch compared to Harry, who could turn him into a heap of needy mush with a glance and make him hard with a sly suggestion or brush of his hand. To have it all with just one person was amazing - the burning attraction, the affection and close companionship - and all just as strong after five years. It was more than Draco had ever dreamed he would possess.

Certainly it was more than he deserved, he thought bitterly. Because here he was, about to cheat on Harry. It was just, well, that he _was_ a Malfoy, and Malfoys simply weren’t faithful - not the male heirs, anyway. It went back generations, Lucius had once explained coldly, grudgingly sharing the information after Draco caught him in flagrante with Walden Macnair. It was the first time he’d realised the full extent of his father’s away-games, but Lucius shrugged off all responsibility, blaming his actions on a curse on the male Malfoy line inflicted by a jilted Hungarian veela in 1816.

Draco fussed with the curtains, making sure they were completely closed. Probably Lucius had been bullshitting him about the curse so as to justify his affairs, but he couldn’t shake off the fear that unfaithfulness was bred into him bone-deep, an unavoidable corruption. He’d become obsessed by it - worrying when he’d crack and end up at some twinkie’s flat, dead drunk, or bending an ambitious young trainee over a crate of quills in the Ministry stationery cupboard. Not that any of them ever appealed to him in the slightest, but the fear that inevitably he would act out the Malfoy curse at some point had tormented him for most of the past year.

Then they’d confiscated… it… from Bukovici, a Romanian wizard arrested trying to set up an illegal Quidditch gambling ring, and the idea had gripped him. It had wound its hooks into him and he hadn’t been free since. He looked nervously sideways at his desk where it sat, covered by his handkerchief. If only he hadn’t taken this post at the Control of Dangerous Magical Objects department last year. But it was a promotion, and such a vote of confidence, letting a Malfoy work in the department responsible for objects filled with Dark Magic. Only because of his ties to Harry, of course, and because he’d kept his nose scrupulously clean ever since the war.

_Yeah, until now_, he thought nervously, slumping into his leather chair and spinning it around restlessly. _And so much for their confidence in you Draco, well done mate_, his inner voice jeered.

Shit shit shit. He rubbed his face. This was crazy, he wouldn’t go through with it. And it was probably dangerous and would cause some ghastly rent in the time-space continuum or some such Muggle-science crap. He’d tried to think it all through to check that it was feasible, but each time it did his head in and made his eyes cross. Of course he’d made plans as best he could, even drawing a diagram to try to get his head around it, but still, there was no way of knowing what would actually happen.

He’d even heard that you’d go mad, but he wasn’t so worried about that. This was his idea, after all, so he was expecting it; he’d be ready. And he was a Malfoy, he was made of sterner stuff than most. No, he was sure he’d cope with that part of it, but this fucking waiting was a killer. He felt like a rat in a cage, waiting for the blow to fall. Would it all go smoothly? Or would they both vanish in a green flash at the first touch, as though they’d been _AK_ed? Would the world as he knew it wink out of existence in a heartbeat?

_Calm the fuck down,_ he told himself. _Getting a tiny bit grandiose there_.

To get some control back he reviewed the plan one last time. It was 5.30 in the evening so the Ministry was well-nigh deserted. His office door was locked and there would be no interruptions. Harry thought he was working late to wrap up the Cursed Name Badge problem. Those damn name badges had caused utter chaos at the recent International Wizarding Security Convention, transfiguring their wearers into trolls who had caused extensive property damage. A great number of hotel-employee Muggles had needed to be Obliviated and poor old Greg Goyle was still in St. Mungos: they hadn’t been able to reverse the curse yet. He always was rather troll-like though, so perhaps…

Draco shook himself - he couldn’t afford to lose concentration now. Harry would get suspicious if he was too late home, so he reckoned they had about an hour. The last thing he needed was Harry getting impatient because dinner was delayed and Apparating into the Ministry to collect him. A cold sweat broke out along Draco’s spine at the thought.

Where the fuck _was_ he? He should be here by now. Oh gods, had something gone dreadfully wrong? Draco buried his head in his arms on the polished oak desk, and groaned.

“Well, hello gorgeous,” drawled a familiar voice, sounding amused.

Draco raised his head. Fuck, it had worked. It had actually worked!

There on the Turkish rug stood… Draco. Himself, identical in every respect, clothes and all, but looking rather flushed and dishevelled and giving him a very come-hither stare from heavy-lidded eyes. He felt his pulse speed up and a flush tinged his cheeks. Of course, his other self had just… er… been with him, so he was bound to be pretty worked up already. He’d forgotten about that. He bit his lip, feeling his cock stiffen. Oddly, he was rather thrown, confronted by this more experienced version of himself who had just - he fervently hoped - been shagging him into stupefaction for the past hour. Oh Merlin, he thought he knew who was going to bottom, from the determined look in the other Draco’s eyes.

“Ah, hi.” Draco swallowed, his mouth a little dry. “This is… weird.”

“Weirder for you than for me. I’ve already been there and done… that.” The other Draco winked lasciviously and Draco flushed. “Thanks to this - worked like a charm, which of course it is. Charmed, I mean.” He grinned and slipped the Time-Turner’s chain off over his head, depositing it beside its counterpart under the handkerchief on Draco’s desk. “I can’t work all of this out, but I think while there’s two of us here there are also two Time-Turners. Make sure you take the original one from under the handkerchief when you go back, OK? I’m not sure if it’d fuck things up - you know, create some sort of paradox or something - if you took the wrong one.”

“Yeah, right,” said Draco hesitantly, not really grasping all the ins and outs of time travel and how two versions of himself and the Time-Turner could co-exist at once anyway. But clearly they could… they did… they were. He had a moment of vertigo thinking that perhaps he and the other Draco were now caught in an endlessly repeating loop in time, here in his office. He shook himself slightly: _let it go_. There were worse things than being stuck in an infinite loop of hot sex, after all.

“So do I get a kiss or what?” The other Draco was leaning against the desk, eyeing him with intense interest through attractively dishevelled strands of white-blond hair. “I promise we won’t explode in a puff of green smoke or anything. I remember what you were fretting about, but it’s OK, we can touch each other. The earth may move, but it won’t come to an end.” His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “And I’d very much like to touch you… Draco.” He smirked and prowled around the oversized desk.

“Um, about the name thing. Shall I be Draco-one and you Draco-two? Or future-Draco, or something like that?” Draco found he was babbling nervously as his doppelganger leaned down and pulled him upright. He stared into his own face, fascinated. It was subtly different from the mirror-image he was used to when shaving. This was how he looked to others.

Draco-two slid one hand into his hair and the other around his waist and pulled him towards his mouth. His voice was throaty. “Whatever. I plan to make you forget your own name pretty soon, so I don’t think it’ll be an issue for long. Come here.”

Their heads tilted and Draco found his lips opening under the pressure of the other’s mouth. He closed his eyes and it wasn’t strange any more, just intensely arousing as he tasted himself and his tongue slid around the other, identical tongue. He smelled of sweat and sex and salt and entirely familiar. It was like kissing his identical twin, he supposed vaguely, finding it hard to think of anything much as his breathing quickened and his arms went around the slender but muscular frame he knew so well, that he worked so hard to keep trim and supple, all those hours at the gym. It was different from touching himself: his brain knew what his own hand was going to do, it was why you couldn’t tickle yourself. His brain didn’t know what the other Draco was planning, though, this was himself, yet a separate person. Their history was almost identical - almost, but not quite. The other Draco knew what they would do, had already done it. And he was another person, so however like Draco he was, he was still fundamentally unpredictable - and that was exciting.

Draco felt himself get hard. The other Draco’s hips were moving insistently against him now, pressing him back against the edge of the desk and pushing his leg between Draco’s thighs, his hand gripping Draco’s arse as he ground his erection into Draco’s rapidly stiffening cock. Draco groaned and arched up, rubbing their groins together, whimpering with pleasure as the cotton weave of his boxer shorts dragged across his sensitive glans.

“Fuck yeah,” gasped Draco-two, panting against his neck and licking that spot above his Adam’s apple that, _oh shit yes_, always turned his knees to jelly. “Gods, I’m desperate for you. I haven’t come yet - figured I couldn’t, not if I was going to come back and fuck you. Now it’s my turn to come and _you_, _Draco_,” punctuating his words with hot, wet kisses down Draco’s neck, “are going to wear the cock ring.”

What? He kept one in the office of course, in a velvet-lined box in the locked bottom drawer with a few copies of his favourite gay porn magazine _Engorgio_. Just for a bit of edging on lazy afternoons when the in-tray was empty. Draco-two leaned down to the bottom drawer and murmured the password spell. The drawer slid open and he took the ring out of its dark blue box.

He put it on the desk and grinned at Draco. “Guess you’ve figured out who’s going to top then?”

Draco smiled and batted his eyelashes. “You know me, nothing I like more than being thoroughly fucked.”

“Mmmm, yes, oddly enough I _do_ know you.” Draco-two was loosening their collars and ties. His own tie was hanging half-undone and Draco could see that there wouldn’t have been much point in getting fully dressed afterwards, just so as to come back and take it all off again.

“I hope I’m not going to get an inferiority complex comparing our cocks to Harry’s,” Draco-two said thoughtfully, putting Draco’s tie on the desk and his own over Draco’s chair. “Although, having recently been on the receiving end of it,” reaching down lewdly to squeeze his groin while pumping his hips and grinning, “I don’t have any complaints.”

Shit, this was strange. This was him, just an hour ahead. The other Draco _was_ him, had had Draco-two’s cock in his arse not so long ago and now he was back to do the honours _as_ Draco-two. Draco frowned, feeling a headache coming on as his brain tied itself in knots. And he wished Harry’s name hadn’t come up; he’d rather not think about Harry just now. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to blank it all out and relax.

Draco-two knew what he was going through. He found himself being pulled into a hug, his head on the other’s shoulder, long-fingered hands massaging the nape of his neck to soothe away the tension. Odd how comforting it was to be wrapped in his own arms, to feel his own body pressed firmly against him, to turn his face into the pale, silky strands and catch the subtle scent of his favourite shampoo.

“It’s OK, don’t think about it, just breathe.” Warm lips met Draco’s in a remarkably tender kiss, and Draco’s eyelids fluttered shut as those long white fingers slid into his hair. After a while he broke off the kiss and bent to Draco-two’s neck, tasting his own meaty, salty flavour and inhaling the familiar pheromones. The long fingers continued unbuttoning his shirt, then slipped it off, continuing to separate their clothes into two piles.

Their identical, pale chests were bare now and Draco felt the other’s hands slide down his stomach to his trousers and stroke tantalisingly around his waist. He leaned in and took a pink nipple into his mouth. Draco-two’s chest was moist and tart with sweat and his nipple was already a little swollen.

“Don’t mark me,” he gasped breathlessly, making Draco freeze with his teeth clamped lightly on the tender nub as guilt flooded him.

Harry would see any marks of course. But would he be able to tell even without bruising and bite-marks? Would Draco reek of sex and guilt so strongly that his betrayal would be obvious the moment he Apparated back into the living room? Shit.

Draco-two was unhappy that he’d stopped. He pressed forwards, encouraging, and Draco began sucking and licking somewhat distractedly, trying to block out thoughts of Harry. His other self was certainly living in the moment. His head had fallen back now and he was making soft noises somewhere between a grunt and a sigh as he arched himself into Draco’s mouth. Draco closed his eyes and tried to sink into the sensation of his wet mouth sliding across the other’s warm chest as he gave both nipples equal attention and felt those hands fumbling with his fly, unzipping him determinedly and pushing down his trousers.

Then clever fingers were slipping inside his underwear and curling around his erection and all thoughts of Harry fled. There was only a delicious hard grip stroking him in exactly the way he most loved to be touched, an agile thumb smearing the fluid leaking from his slit across the hot, swollen head of his cock. It was something like wanking: the moves were the same, the technique identical. But it wasn’t his hand on his cock, so again the frisson of an external locus of control heightened the excitement and made him buck helplessly into Draco-two’s grasp.

The last of their clothing was pushed or kicked off, and Draco was pulled into the other’s arms, warm skin and lean muscle sliding against its counterpart down the length of his body. They were of course perfectly matched: just the right height, just as flexible and strong. They worked against each other with increasing urgency as their limbs twined and his hand came down to enclose Draco-two’s cock between them, mirroring the other’s grip on his own erection.

“Mmmph... more!” Draco-two fucked hard into his grip and thrust his tongue forcefully into Draco’s mouth, seemingly desperate to penetrate him in every way possible. Then he pulled back from the kiss, leaning his forehead against Draco’s and panting. He _Accio_ed the cock ring and attached it, making Draco moan and rub against his hands, looking down between them at the contrast between his dusky, engorged cock and the pale skin of his stomach and thighs.

“Want…” Draco muttered incoherently, frotting against Draco-two’s hip as he felt the pressure build.

“Yeah.” Draco-two turned him and bent him down over his own oak desktop, pushing his arms forwards and down so the forearms were flat on the desk, his head pressed down onto his arms. He felt a knee nudge his legs wider apart. “Fuck, yeah.”

Draco pushed his arse back and up, hollowing his back and widening his stance a little more. He felt wanton and desperate as the other’s hands caressed his buttocks and slid between them, the strong thumbs gripping his cheeks and opening him. There was a soft thud as his lover fell to his knees on the rug behind him and he shuddered.

“Oh please…” Draco moaned, his legs quivering with anticipation.

Then he was crying out, his hands scrabbling at the slippery wood of the desktop as Draco-two’s tongue was inserted between his legs, licking his balls and sliding wet and warm right up his crack, across and around the pucker of his anus, making him grunt with need and buck back into the delicious, tormenting sensation. The tongue flicked softly at his hole and he heard himself sobbing and whining, pleading to be fucked, to be entered.

And oh the pleasure as he felt the pointed tongue press into him. Harsh gasps and groans were forced from him as he felt himself filled and teased as though by a wet, slithering animal. The sounds drove him wild - wet slurps and sucking noises - and all the while he felt the other’s nose pressing between his cheeks, felt the soft fall of hair brushing the skin of his buttocks and the rasp of day-end stubble on that chin as he angled his face to drive his evil fucking tongue deeper into Draco’s hole. Rational thought fled screaming as Draco fell into sensation and drowned, spitted on the point of orgasm by that damned ring that kept him from the explosive release he needed.

Then the tongue withdrew and he cried out again from its loss, arching back as the other slid a lube-slicked finger inside him, leaning over his back and nuzzling his shoulder blades, muttering obscenities while his long finger thrust deep inside, soon joined by a second digit. He scissored them and Draco felt the ring of muscle relaxing, felt himself loosening.

He grunted softly, sucking the fingers in, feeling them seek out the swelling of his prostate, finding it. Then he was screaming, the sound muffled as he pressed his mouth to his sweaty forearm and spasmed as the fingers slid and probed, jolts of electric ecstasy radiating out from his groin and down his trembling legs.

“Oh fuck! oh fuck!” There was nothing but pleasure, his already confused world contracted down to a burning, needy core with no self or other as he felt the head of his own cock press into him, past the loosened muscles, the hard length sheathing itself deep inside his body.

“Yes, fuck you, yes… fuck, at _last_…” grunted his own voice, hot behind his ear, and Draco added his helpless litany, their pleading promises a gasped duet as their bodies thrust and slid, slapping wetly, balls thudding against each other again and again as that cock drove hard in then pulled slowly back before impaling itself again in his hot flesh.

“Harder, fuck, _harder_!” He sobbed, dimly aware that no matter how hard he was fucked he wasn’t going to come, but desperate to try anyway.

He felt the other respond, hammering himself in rapidly now, all control gone as he reached forwards and lifted Draco off the desk a little, sliding his hands up Draco’s chest and hooking them around his shoulders so as to ram himself in as forcefully as possible. Then Draco-two gave a choking gasp and with one last frantic thrust, held still, gripping Draco tight and shuddering as he came.

Draco felt himself caught, transfixed in a mesh of limbs and flesh, held in this moment even as his arse pulsated with need and his own tortured cock stood out purple and bursting before him, feeling as though it would literally explode if anyone so much as brushed it.

Draco-two sighed happily. His head had fallen between Draco’s shoulder-blades and he was idly licking the sweat pooling there while his cock gave a last twitch and began to soften. He withdrew and helped Draco to stand, turn and lean back on the desk, careful not to touch his groin, gently murmuring the spell to unlock the cock ring before sending it back into its box as the drawer clicked shut again.

Draco moaned as the pressure subsided, pressing the heel of his hand hard against his aching erection and cupping his tender balls.

“Gently now, just let it settle.” Draco-two carefully pulled his hands away and leaned in, kissing him and sucking on his slightly swollen lower lip.

“Mmnnmph!” said Draco intelligently into the other’s mouth, then pulled back, glowering. “All very well for you to fucking say you bastard, you just got off!”

“I know, I know, your turn soon,” his lover reassured him, kissing along his jaw and down his neck, licking across the tendon and nuzzling behind his ear where the skin was soft. “And you know it’s going to be worth the wait, don’t you?” he murmured, grinning.

Draco made a noise of grudging assent and pulled his lover in so that their legs and hips were joined. His eyes shut for a moment at the pressure of the other’s thigh on his still-sensitive cock, but it had subsided somewhat now and was no longer about to go off like a fizzing whizzbee. He held Draco-two back a little and stared at him, licking his lips.

“Well, now, we have to get you cleaned up so you can go home in a while,” he said. “Do you think he’ll…?”

“Realise? Fuck, I hope not. I’m a bloody good liar when I need to be.” Draco-two flicked a strand of pale hair out of his eyes and smirked. “As you know full well.”

“Mmmm. But what if he-?”

“Wants a fuck? I can put him off for a bit - hard day at the office and all that. And I’ll be good to go again in while. This has been very… stimulating, after all.” He grinned, slitting his eyes at Draco who felt his face mirror an identical smirk in response.

“So will I…?”

“See me again? No, well yes, I suspect we’ll be doing this again, don’t you? But it won’t quite be _me_ will it? Or _you_?”

Draco and his other self stared at each other, frowning a little. “It doesn’t really pay to think about all that too much, does it?” whispered Draco in the end, reaching out to stroke his lover’s lower lip.

Draco-two licked at his finger, closing his eyes. “No. It’s too weird, it gives me a headache.” His eyes opened, serious now. “Do you think this is better-?”

“Than a real affair? Has to be, surely. I’m not really fucking anyone else, after all. He wouldn’t be upset if I was wanking - he likes it when I do that.”

“Yeah, he likes to watch. But it’s not really the same, you know that. It’s more than just tossing yourself off. You’re… you’re me, but you’re not, you know?”

“Don’t.” Draco put his hand over the other’s mouth, silencing him. “I can’t fucking figure it out so just… don’t, OK?”

“Yeah…” Draco-two sighed and kissed his palm then turned away, casting cleansing charms on himself and collecting his clothes, sorting them carefully out from Draco’s before pulling them on.

Draco cleaned himself up a little and dressed, not bothering to tidy himself or knot his tie. _I’ll be Draco-two soon_ he thought, a chill running down his back at the strangeness of it all. He shivered, suddenly struck by the foreboding that there must surely be some law of nature against this, his fevered imagination conjuring a pissed off God of Time who would suddenly manifest in the office and run them both through with the barbed hands of an enormous clock.

Draco-two was smiling faintly at him, leaning against the wall. “How do I look? Not too sweaty? No sex hair?”

Draco checked him out carefully and smoothed back an errant lock. He looked down and pulled the onyx desk set back from where he’d turned it away while he was being fucked across the expanse of oak. Harry had given him the set two years ago for his birthday and from beside the clock, quill-holder and ink pot, a small photograph of Harry in a silver frame smiled and waved up at him, blissfully ignorant of Draco’s transgressions.

“I think you’re all right. Give it another twenty minutes before you head home though, there’s enough time.” He took the handkerchief off the Time-Turner and hung it around his neck, leaving the other Time-Turner for Draco-two’s future use.

“Well, I guess…” Draco trailed off, feeling odd. It had been so intense and now he was about to leave this version of himself who had just been balls deep in his arse, and jump back into the recent past to _become_ Draco-two. He swallowed nervously.

“It’s OK, it works perfectly well you know,” Draco-two reassured him.

“Yes, I know, I just…” Something else occurred to him. “Do I have to do it all _exactly_ like you did? You know, make the same moves, say the same things? I - I don’t know if I can get it just right like that.” He bit his lip, troubled. And it would be irritatingly inhibiting to stick to a rigid script.

“No, you’ll be fine. I wasn’t word-perfect - not that there was a lot of stimulating intellectual discussion going on through most of it, as you’ll recall!” Draco-two grinned. “I think it doesn’t matter as long as it’s roughly the same series of events. I mean, it’s not as though we’ll change the future if you say “Fuck yes!” instead of “Oh Merlin!”, is it?”

Draco smiled, relieved. He took a couple of steps forwards and pulled Draco-two back into his arms, kissing him gently, then more passionately as his cock responded. He bucked his hips a little and copped a feel of Draco-two’s arse. “Goodbye then.”

“Twit.” Draco-two grinned affectionately and ruffled his hair, then slid his hand down to Draco’s crotch and palmed his stiffening cock, stroking it through his clothing until it was hard under his hand. He caressed the head, rubbing his thumb across it through the weave of the trousers until Draco groaned, breathing faster. “There you go, Tiger. Now, go fuck yourself.”

Draco stepped back, grinning, and made a singularly obscene gesture. He gave the Time-Turner a twist, and vanished.

________________________

Leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk, Draco wondered if he should be concerned by the easy way in which he’d fallen into regular assignations with his time-shifted self. They met once a week; Draco-two should be appearing at any moment. It had been going on for a few months now and he felt almost blasé about the whole situation.

One could get used to anything, he supposed. People did, no matter whether they understood how things worked. Muggles were constantly using technology despite having no notion how their devices functioned, or so Harry had told him, perhaps trying to persuade him that Draco and the Muggle world had more in common than he realised.

Bugger, he’d been trying not to think about Harry. As far as Draco could tell he was blissfully ignorant of all these shenanigans. Draco made sure never to let him glimpse any evidence of the trysts with himself, and he was always up for a romp later on if Harry was in the mood. Important not to seem shagged out afterwards, even if he was a little the worse for wear when his other self had been especially inventive and demanding. And Draco _was_ an important Ministry official; his work did legitimately keep him late on occasions.

He got up and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtains a little so as to peer out into the dusk. There was a soft puff of displaced air behind him and he heard Draco-two take a breath.

“Hi there.”

He turned to find his other self eyeing him, looking rumpled and brushing back his hair. He seemed a little tense, glancing around the office almost nervously as he deposited the Time-Turner on the desk. But of course they were alone and the door securely locked.

Draco moved forwards. “Hi yourself.” He put his hands on Draco-two’s waist and pulled him in for a kiss, but the other broke it off too soon and just held him, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Draco rested his cheek against Draco-two’s slightly messy hair, wondering why his counterpart was in this odd mood. Had they been talking about something that had disturbed him before he jumped back in time?

With a shrug, Draco relaxed into the hug. It was pleasant sometimes to take it slow and just be held. There was comfort in his other self’s presence; he was just so completely familiar, so known. They talked sometimes after making out and he’d come to value the conversations, especially if something were troubling him. It was no different from the internal monologues he had with himself of course, but it was somehow easier to think things through when one’s inner voice took physical form.

Their relationship had softened a little across the months. The first fevered heat had faded - it did in all relationships and after all, he _was_ having an affair with himself so his lover had always been a supremely known quantity. They still had passionate sex but the ragged edge had gone and there were more moments like this: affectionate and comfortable rather than driven by the blind pressure of lust.

Draco-two seemed quite passive today - unusual for him. Draco began to undress him and he accepted it quietly, standing with his eyes down and biting his lip. Once he glanced quickly about the room and seemed about to say something, then sighed and apparently thought better of it. What on earth had gotten into him?

He was ready though, shutting his eyes and groaning as Draco stripped away their clothing then took their stiff cocks in hand, holding them close together and stroking them gently. Draco moved them to the Turkish rug, pulling Draco-two down with him onto their knees and moving in, tilting his head for a hungry kiss, his hands in the other’s hair. Draco-two’s mouth opened and Draco pressed him back onto the carpet, their cocks rubbing against each other, making him bite back a moan of pleasure.

They had largely stopped using the cock ring after the first few times - it added a nicely desperate edge to proceedings if he were in the mood, but it wasn’t healthy to use it too much, and it took quite a toll on Draco to be pent-up to that degree. Instead, Draco-two took care to keep Draco close to the edge without letting him come. Draco was now quite adept at delaying his orgasm by mentally reciting the Quidditch League Table. And he did always get to come in the end, after all, when he was Draco-two.

His lover’s passivity today was very odd, although the need to delay his own release sometimes led them into dominant-submissive games. Draco-two had always been dominant before though - his pent-up lust and greater experience made him so naturally, and as his sub, Draco could be tormented deliciously without being allowed to come. For a brief moment Draco wondered if it was too deranged to be acting out D/s scenes with himself as the ultimate switch, then shook the worry away. Why fret about one small detail when the whole fucking thing was completely unbelievable.

Draco-two arched back on the rug, groaning and lifting his hips as Draco ran his tongue up the underside of his cock and cupped his balls. Draco’s lips mouthed the other’s glans, sucking it clean and dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit, making him writhe. Then he engulfed the swollen cock before him and swallowed it down, making his lover’s toes curl as Draco-two bit his hand to keep from shouting aloud with pleasure. His hips were trembling with the effort of trying not to thrust up into Draco’s mouth and his other hand slid into Draco’s pale blond silky hair, pressing him down gently.

Draco was getting into his stride, setting up a good rhythm as he gripped Draco-two’s cock and pumped him while sucking him. Then his lover’s hands tightened in his hair, making him wince and peer up at Draco-two, puzzled.

“What are you-?”

Draco-two was staring up at the ceiling, very still and tense. He seemed to be waiting for something. Draco peered upwards but there was nothing there, only the usual fresco of repulsively chubby centaurs and dryads frolicking in the woods.

“So this is what you’ve been getting up to!”

Draco - both Dracos - jumped and swivelled around guiltily, staring across the room where Harry stood, face flushed with anger. Only his head was visible, the rest of his body concealed under the Invisibility Cloak.

“Harry… I… it’s not what you think!” Draco was aware that he was making very little sense. Shit, what _did_ it look like? That he’d cloned himself? That he was fucking a secret identical twin?

“Yeah? What the fuck am I _supposed_ to think, Draco? Hell - which of you _is_ Draco, anyway? What sick shit is this? Do you make your bit on the side Polyjuice himself to look like you, you fucking narcissist?”

Draco-two groaned, his face in his hands.

He was no bloody help, Draco thought crossly. He leaned forwards, anxious. “Harry, I can explain. Can you take off the cloak though, it’s kind of disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting? Tell you what’s fucking disconcerting: finding your lover fucking a replica of himself, that’s what’s fucking well disconCERTing!”

Oh no, oh shit. Draco felt a cold plummet of fear in his guts. He _had_ to make Harry understand.

“No, it’s still me. He’s just me I mean.” He exchanged a desperate glance with Draco-two.

“We’re both Draco!” Finally Draco-two was trying to explain, pushing himself up, one hand outstretched and pleading. “I used a Time-Turner, Harry, I went back in time a little, so there’s two of me.”

Harry had flung the cloak against the wall and was pacing up and down, scrubbing his hands roughly through his hair as though it were infested with chizpurfles. “What the _fuck_ are you doing buggering about,” they all winced, “with a fucking _Time-Turner? _Those things are _banned!_”

“I know, I know, but I had to Harry, I had to beat the curse!”

“_What_ fucking curse?” Harry whirled and planted his feet, his jaw jutting dangerously.

“The Malfoy curse.” Draco told him Lucius’s story. It suddenly sounded incredibly thin, an obvious load of old cobblers.

“A fucking _veela_ curse? And you believed what _Lucius_ told you?” Harry sounded incredulous. “This is the same Lucius, well known former Death Eater and practitioner of Dark Magic we’re talking about, right? And it never occurred to you that he might just have been spinning you a convenient porky because he’d been caught out?”

Draco and Draco-two wilted, ashamed. Draco-two spoke first. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure. But I just got obsessed by it, by the idea that I was cursed and I was going to fuck this… with you… fuck it up sooner or later. I thought… I thought that if I had an affair with myself it might break the curse.”

Draco swiped a hand over his cheek, finding wetness there. Shit, he was snivelling like a girl. He pulled the shreds of his dignity together. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t really count as an affair… if I did it with myself. I was trying not to have a _real_ affair.” His voice trailed off hopelessly. “I’m sorry, it was a daft idea…”

“Merlin, you’re a fuckwit, Malfoy.” Not good - it had been years since Harry called him Malfoy as anything but a joke, and they were light-years away from joking now. “If you get caught with a Time-Turner… oh shit - did you steal it from _here_? From the _Ministry_?”

Draco-two squirmed. “Well, yes, but they’ll never be able to trace it. I confiscated it from this Romanian idiot and copied it using a Geminio charm. This is the real one.” Gesturing at the desk where the two hourglass-like objects stood. “So as far as the Ministry knows it’s safely locked up in the Department of Mysteries. No-one here’s ever used it, because of the ban. They probably _will_ destroy it if the Wizengamot decides it’s too dangerous to keep around, but even if they try it and find the version in storage is a dud, they can’t prove when it was copied. The Romanian, Bukovici, wasn’t the sharpest wand in the box - he could easily have been sold a lemon. It’s safe, Harry, I won’t get caught.”

Draco tried not to wince. Not the best choice of words, it sounded as though he intended to keep on using it. But Harry had lifted the handkerchief and was staring at the two hourglasses, distracted.

“Why are there two of them?”

“Because there are two of _me_ right now - I have one Time-Turner here and when I use it to go back an hour in time,” the two Dracos looked at each other, “well, then there’s a second Time-Turner here as well, for a while.”

Harry’s face was scrunched up. He looked as though he’d eaten too much ice-cream at Florean Fortescue’s and had brain-freeze.

“I know, it does your head in. Believe me, I’ve given up trying to think it through.”

“Fucking obvious you haven’t been thinking anything through, Draco.” But Harry sounded tired rather than furious, and he was Draco again, a good sign. Hopefully.

Harry sighed deeply and sat down in Draco’s swivel chair, resting his head back on the leather cushion and closing his eyes, his hands over his face. “Let me get this straight. You were working yourself up into a complete fucking tizz over some probably non-existent veela infidelity curse, so instead of talking to _me_,” he shot both Dracos a poisonous glare out of narrowed green eyes, “you decided to nick an illegal Time-Turner from the Ministry, thus committing an offence doubtless punishable by time in Azkaban, and since then you’ve been jumping back in time so as to have regular little orgies with yourself. And all this was so as not to be unfaithful to me.”

Draco and Draco-two both hunched their shoulders defensively and nodded, mute, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“That has got to be the stupidest…” Harry gesticulated, speechless. “Fuck Malfoy. I just… _fuck_.”

There was a long, charged silence while Draco pulled a thread from the rug and Draco-two fiddled with his hair.

“How long?”

Draco-two’s voice was almost inaudible. “About three months.”

“Yeah, I figured. Did you really think I wouldn’t _notice_? When you started staying late at work on a regular basis and arriving home smelling of _come_? I notice _everything_ about you, Draco, surely you know that? Why wouldn’t I notice that you were all lit up and smelling like a fucking whorehouse?”

Oh shit - Draco’s heart sank. Harry had known something was going on all along. All that time he must have been worrying, thinking Draco was having a real affair. _W__ell, weren’t you?_ Draco felt crushed by guilt. He began to crawl across the rug to Harry, vaguely aware that Draco-two was also creeping up, desperate to make amends, to make this right somehow, terrified that he’d blown it and that Harry would kick him out.

Harry’s face was back in his hands. “You have no idea what it’s been like. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. I tried to ignore the clues - the way you looked, the way you smelt. You didn’t really seem any different with me but I thought that you must have stopped loving me, you must just be pretending to care. And I couldn’t find any traces of the other guy, of your lover. Well, of course not, I see why now... In the end I couldn’t stand it any more so I followed you to work today when you said you’d be ‘working late’ again. And when I saw you and…him, I mean you and…and you. Fuck! This is too weird…” He snuffled then grabbed some tissues off the desk, blowing his nose forcefully.

“Please…” Draco knelt beside Harry, touching his knee carefully. “Please Harry, I’m so sorry. I _do_ love you, there’s no-one else.”

Harry looked pointedly from Draco to Draco-two then closed his eyes again wearily as though to shut out the whole mess.

Draco-two touched his other knee and said hurriedly. “Yes, well, there are two of me at the moment, but it’s just me really, there’s never been anyone else but you and me. I don’t _want_ anyone else but you. Please, Harry, give me a second chance.” Harry sighed and kept his eyes closed.

Draco glanced anxiously across at Draco-two but the other was licking his lips and staring at Harry. He began to slide his hand slowly up Harry’s thigh, motioning with his head for Draco to do the same. A spark of understanding flashed between them.

“What are you…?” Harry’s eyes were slitted, staring down at their hands. Draco’s was on Harry’s cock now, stroking it through the soft denim of his favourite pair of jeans. Draco-two’s hand had slid in between Harry’s thighs.

Draco screwed up his courage. “I’ve been an idiot Harry, but since there are two of me here right now, please, let me make it up to you?”

“You want to… both of you?” Harry looked overwhelmed.

Draco could feel him responding though, feel that big cock start to stiffen and twitch through the denim as he caressed it, the bulky length solidifying under his hand. Draco-two had edged Harry’s legs further apart and was stroking the seam of his jeans, tracing soft touches over his balls and perineum. Harry closed his eyes and moaned softly, sounding lost.

Not wanting Harry to have any chance for second thoughts Draco leaned in and breathed hot and moist on the bulge of Harry’s cock through the jeans, causing Harry’s hips to buck forwards into his mouth. He undid the snap fastening and zip, pulling up the T-shirt and kissing bare skin just above the waistband, licking his way down the trail of dark hair as he pulled Harry’s jeans open.

Draco-two had stood up and was leaning over Harry, braced on the arms of the swivel chair as he pressed soft kisses to his forehead and cheeks. He kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth and Harry turned blindly towards him like an infant seeking the breast. Draco-two cupped a hand along Harry’s jaw and ran his tongue around Harry’s mouth, sucking softly on his lower lip. Draco watched their tongues meet and move together then their heads tilted and the kiss deepened, Harry’s hands coming up to hold his other self’s waist.

Then Harry’s cock was in his hands, freed from his clothing, and Draco slid the foreskin fully back, flicking his tongue over the bitter-salt moistness of the swelling glans and kissing the slit before taking it in as deeply as he could, wrapping his tongue around the thick shaft with a smothered moan. Harry arched up into his mouth and one of his hands dropped to Draco’s hair and tangled there as his hips moved helplessly.

It would be all right now, thought Draco. Thank fucking Merlin, it would be all right. He kept his mouth on Harry, moving on him as he sucked, and used his hands to ease the jeans down, encouraging Harry to lift his hips then help kick shoes and clothing off. Then he pulled Harry’s hips forwards to the edge of the chair and ran his hand down Harry’s left leg, stroking the inside of his thigh, across his knee then down the back of his calf before lifting him by the ankle and hooking Harry’s leg over his own shoulder. Draco steadied the base of Harry’s cock with his hands and slid his lips up to the head, swirling his tongue round the wet, dark red crown. He licked down the underside of Harry’s cock, paying special attention to the frenulum under the head until Harry shuddered and gripped his hair tightly. Then Draco flicked his tongue across Harry’s balls, taking the sac into his mouth and sucking lightly.

Draco-two had pulled Harry’s T-shirt up and was kissing his way down Harry’s chest and belly, sliding his tongue down his abdominals as they flexed in response to the tongue and lips caressing Harry’s scrotum. Harry was looking down at them both, his eyes half-closed, breathing shallowly. Draco-two kneeled across from Draco and leaned in for a brief kiss, their mouths tasting intimately of Harry. Then he nestled his blond head in Harry’s groin and took Harry’s cock into his mouth while Draco spread Harry’s legs wider and lifted his balls, running his tongue back along the crease to lick that tight pucker of flesh that flexed shyly under his mouth.

Harry’s head fell back on the chair and he gripped the arms with both hands, thrusting into their mouths and groaning. “Oh fuck, please Draco, oh god…”

Draco felt Harry’s balls draw up and tighten. He was on the edge, about to come, but it was too soon. He dropped a last kiss on Harry’s arse and knelt up, stilling Draco-two and indicating the rug with a tilt of his head. Harry moaned, his hands coming down to their heads as though in blessing, even as his hips pressed up seeking their mouths again.

Draco murmured hot and breathy in Harry’s ear as he pulled him down on top. “Come on love, come down here with me now, yes, that’s right, fuck me on the rug, Harry, fuck me right here.”

He writhed as their cocks slid against each other; Harry shuddered and moved on him urgently. Draco-two had opened the bottom drawer again and with a soft “_Accio_ lube”, retrieved the glass jar and scooped some of the contents out. He knelt beside them, persuading Harry to lift up for a moment as he spread the cream on his cock and around Draco’s hole.

Draco had bent his legs up at the knee and let them fall open, and Harry was stroking his inner thighs, teasing the soft skin near his groin. His dark hair fell forwards across his flushed face and his eyes were nearly closed. He ran a finger through the lube around Draco’s arse, slicking it thoroughly, then slid his finger in through the ring of muscle until Draco sobbed and arched back, pressing up to offer himself to Harry, desperate to be fucked. The lubed finger slipped in and out, curving around to caress Draco and brush the sensitive places inside. Draco grunted, bucking, as another finger joined the first and Harry swivelled them into him as though coring an apple.

“Yeah… fuck… oh… f-fuck…” he muttered incoherently as he felt the smooth, firm head of Harry’s cock replace his fingers, pressing hard past Draco’s loosened barrier and up inside him. It hurt a little but Draco welcomed the pain, opening himself up to it, needing to be punished. Harry bent one of Draco’s legs up tightly on his stomach, gripped his hip and thrust, ramming himself in deeply with long hard strokes, grunting. He was rougher than usual, channelling his anger into the act as Draco shuddered around him, taking it, wanting to be filled and used and taught a lesson. He grabbed his quivering knees and flattened them outwards, whimpering and trying to suck Harry in even further.

Sweat ran into Draco’s eyes, blurring his vision for a moment. Through the haze he saw Draco-two kneeling behind Harry, and felt Harry stiffen and freeze, then begin to move again. Harry’s eyes were shut and he was making small gasping moans with each thrust. Draco knew those sounds: they meant Harry had something up his arse, Draco’s fingers or his cock. He watched as Draco-two mounted Harry, feeling the added weight behind the thrusts, hearing Harry’s moans become nearly continuous as his other self set the pace, his thrusts inside Harry echoed by the helpless pumping of Harry’s hips into Draco.

Hearing Harry’s whimpers and seeing Draco-two arching back above him, head back and mouth open, his skin damp and rosy as he drove them all towards orgasm, Draco realised that he was dangerously close himself. _Fuck._ Chudley Cannons were in the lead, then Puddlemere United - _oh fuck that was good_ \- and the Tutshill Tornados, then the Kenmare Kestrels, the H-Holyhead Harpies - _oh sweet gods_. Draco was so close, as he desperately tried to keep his hands off himself and remember the rest of the British and Irish League, concentrating on anything but the pleasure of Harry’s cock thrusting relentlessly into him then pulling back only to ram deep inside him again. Over and over again as he bit his lip and his fingers clawed at the fibres of the rug. The Wimbourne Wasps, then the Falmouth Falcons, the B-Ballycastle Bats, and - _oh thank Merlin_. Harry was clutching him, clenching and shuddering in his release, his spasms triggering Draco-two’s own orgasm as he thrust involuntarily into Harry, his long, fluttering eyelashes standing out pale against his suffused, dusky cheeks.

They collapsed down onto the rug in an untidy heap while Draco shielded his cock, now so excited that a random touch was likely to set it off like Erumpent horn extract. He still had to go back, after all. No wonder Draco-two had been odd with him, he realised. Why hadn’t he just told him straight away that Harry was in the room? But that might have altered the course of events, and anyway, it was better that they had it all out in the open. Probably.

“Harry?”

Draco stroked the side of Harry’s face. Harry kissed his palm drowsily; that was hopeful. Draco-two was finger-combing Harry’s wild hair and Harry made a satisfied noise, leaning back into the touch.

“I love you, Harry, please forgive me.”

One green eye opened drowsily. “Maybe. You’ve got a bit more penance to work off yet though.”

Draco-two kissed the back of Harry’s neck. “Whatever you want.”

“Yeah? Breakfast in bed? We get to watch the sports channel instead of _Potions Master Playoffs_?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake… yes, all right then.”

Draco grinned and extricated himself from the tangle of limbs. He cast a quick _Scourgify _and began to pull on his clothes. Amazingly, only fifty-five minutes had passed, so the usual single turn ought to do it.

As he did up his shirt, leaving the top buttons undone, he noticed Harry watching him with a small frown.

“Why are you in such a hurry? Off somewhere?”

“Yes Harry - I have to go back.”

“What, back home?”

“No, in time. I have to go back now, so as to be him. The other me.” He gestured at Draco-two.

Harry pulled himself free, and he and Draco-two clambered to their feet. Harry was still frowning.

“So I won’t see you again…”

“Yes, sure you will – I’ll be the other Draco here. Don’t try to puzzle it out – it just makes your brain hurt.”

Draco stepped forwards and smoothed the frown lines from Harry’s forehead.

“It’s OK.” He ran the back of his hand down Harry’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him softly.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I won’t do it again.”

Harry’s green gaze swept over Draco then slid aside to include Draco-two. The corner of his mouth pulled up just a little. “Well, maybe just on special occasions.”

Draco grinned and shot his alter ego a very Slytherin glance. Slipping the Time-Turner’s chain over his head, he blew Harry a kiss and spun the hourglass.

_fin_

________________________

 

(Draco Narcissus, by mific)


End file.
